


What Happens in the Ring

by TooSel



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Boxing, Getting Together, Gyms, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooSel/pseuds/TooSel
Summary: Harvey takes Mike boxing, which turns out to be therapeutic, a catalyst for bonding, and an unexpected way to get a love confession out of him.





	What Happens in the Ring

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been translated [into Hungarian](https://fanfic.hu/merengo/viewstory.php?sid=138255)!

Mike Ross, for all his intellectual strength and assets, is not a strong man.

It's not that Harvey thinks about Mike's body all the time. In fact, he barely gives it any thought – in passing at most, honestly, and he never lingers.

But then the kid gets himself beaten up, and suddenly Harvey can't stop thinking about it. About the way he looked defending himself, chin raised, his narrow shoulders straight as if to hide the missing bulk that led to his undignified defeat.

Harvey doesn't want to admit it, but he's worried about Mike. Someone laying hand on him is bad enough, but Mike not being able to defend himself? Unacceptable. He should be able to hold his own when it comes to it.

So he approaches Mike's desk the following week, nodding towards the door as he says, “Pack your stuff.”

“Why?” Mike scowls. “I have a ton of precedents to get through until-”

“Never mind that,” Harvey interrupts. “I've got another job for you. Are you coming or do I have to ask again?”

So Mike quickly grabs his things before hurrying after him.

“Where are we going?” he asks, and the way his jaw drops when Harvey says, “The gym,” almost makes him laugh.

“What? Why? I mean- is there a client or something?”

“Nope. Just us.”

Mike is silent, shaking his head. “I'm not sure I'm following.”

Harvey sighs. “I'm showing you how to throw a proper punch.”

“Okay.” Mike frowns. “Why?”

“Because it's something you need to know and I have a feeling your grandmother neglected to teach you in that particular area.”

“I don't have any clothes,” Mike points out when Harvey opens the door to his gym, but follows him inside regardlessly.

“Good thing I do.”

Harvey tosses him the spare clothes from his locker, stealing glances at Mike hurrying to get dressed as he changes. While he doesn't look half bad without a shirt – not bad at all, a small part of his brain notes – there isn't much to be said about his muscles.

“Alright,” Harvey announces as he turns to him, momentarily distracted by the sight of Mike in his clothes. It stirs a weird, hot sensation in his stomach he doesn't examine too closely, instead pushing a pair of gloves into his hands.

“Because I want to prevent any injuries and save you the embarrassment, we're not starting with a duel.”

He leads Mike to a more secluded part of the gym. It's late, and while there aren't many people, Mike's eyes catch on each of them in apprehension, like they will single him out as an amateur and make fun of him. As if Harvey would let that happen.

“Okay,” he says when they come to a halt, one arm around a punching bag. “Go on. Hit me with your best shot.”

Mike stares at him, holding his gloved hands up like they don't belong to his body. Harvey just so resists rolling his eyes.

“You really haven't done this before, have you? Alright, come on. Posture.” He lets go of the punching bag when Mike just looks at him, guiding his shoulders into the right position. “Like this. Now hold your arms like you're actually planning to use them.”

He corrects his stance, then steps back. “Alright, you're good to go. This is your starting position. Always return to it, got it?”

When Mike nods, he says, “Good. Knock yourself out.”

Mike shoots him a look. “Hope you don't mean that literally,” he mutters, then lets out a deep breath and throws a punch. It's a little aimless, weakened by insecurity and altogether too tentative, but it's not all bad.

“Again,” Harvey instructs. “Harder this time.”

He keeps pushing him, ignoring his groaning and the glares Mike sends him. By the time he calls for a break Mike is sweating, wiping his forehead as he catches his breath.

“Why are you making me do this?”

“Because I can't let you walk around without knowing how to throw a punch with a clean conscience. You have a way of attracting trouble. Next time you're getting beaten up, I want you to come out on top.”

“Who says I'm gonna get beaten up again?”

“Experience. Common Sense. Call it what you will.”

“Your faith in me is staggering,” Mike remarks dryly.

“I'm only realistic. Now stop whining and get back to it. We're not here for fun.”

“I don't remember hiring you as my personal trainer,” Mike mutters, but gets back into position before he starts punching again, clearly determined to get it right this time.

“That wasn't so bad,” Harvey commends him afterwards. He grabs his own gloves. “Now, whatever I do, you copy. Ready?”

Mike looks like he wants to protest, but bites his tongue. Harvey gives him a satisfied look, then starts hitting the bag, glancing at Mike every so often to check his technique.

They spend over an hour pounding it out, with Harvey throwing instructions in here and there, until they are both sweaty and panting.

“That was good,” Harvey says afterwards. “How are you feeling?”

Mike's chest is heaving. He's dripping sweat, but Harvey can tell he's past the point of exhaustion and all up in the endorphins. His eyes are on Harvey's when he says, “Alive.”

Harvey squeezes his shoulder. “You can thank me later. Come on, let's grab some water.”

* * *

They don't repeat their boxing session for a while. Both of them are busy, and while Harvey has his own workout routine, he doesn't ask Mike to join him again. He can decide for himself if he wants to get into shape or not. Harvey did his part in showing him the basics, everything else is up to him.

If he sometimes thinks about the way Mike looked in his clothes or how his muscles flexed beneath them, nobody's there to call him out on it.

The second time Harvey takes Mike boxing is in the middle of a major case. The stress levels are insane, even for him. Everyone seems ready to snap, Mike as much as the rest of them, and Harvey could use a break himself. So he grabs him before lunch one day, ignoring his protesting.

“The files can wait for two hours. We'll probably be here the whole night anyway, so we're taking a break.”

“What for?”

“To blow off some steam.”

Mike only sighs when they reach the gym. “I'll have to wear your stuff again,” is all he says. Harvey hums. How tragic.

He hands him the clothes, trying not to ogle him too obviously once he's changed.

“Alright, starting position,” he orders when they reach the punching bag. Mike exhales deeply, but does as he says.

He is predictably out of shape, but he gets back into it soon. When Harvey is content he nods, holding the bag in place.

“Good. Next time we might even try some sparring.”

Mike gives him a look, but doesn't say anything as he wipes his forehead. “What are we doing now?” he then asks, and Harvey smirks.

“Eager, huh? Good. Enthusiasm helps. Now you let go.”

“How?”

“Channel your emotions. Put everything into it. Like this,” Harvey says, and then he starts punching the bag, putting all his pent up stress into it. He goes on until he's out of breath, until he can feel the sweat trickle down his spine, Mike's eyes on him like a burning sensation, urging him on.

He joins in soon, and for a while it's just their heavy breathing and the two of them punching out their frustration. Mike nearly collapses against the wall when Harvey finally calls for a stop, but he's grinning, and Harvey feels a surge of pride that he pushed through.

“Better?”

Mike nods. There's a sense of connection, of shared unison in the look he's giving him that Harvey feels as well.

“Loads. And you know what? I think I just got an idea for the case.”

“That's what I like to hear. Come on, we need to go anyway. You can tell me all about it on our way back.”

* * *

After that Mike occasionally joins Harvey at the gym. Harvey is usually the one inviting him, but sometimes Mike asks if he can come, and Harvey never tells him no.

The thing is, it's not only a great way to blow off some steam. Harvey just also really enjoys spending time with Mike, and the gym is an excellent excuse for that. At one point Mike even brings his own clothes, and while Harvey mourns the loss of the sight of Mike in his attire, he likes the implications of it.

Neither of them keeps track of their sessions, but it goes on until they almost develop a routine. Mike gets better, and Harvey imagines he looks a little stronger, carries himself with more authority as a result. He accepts Harvey's lessons and improves until Harvey is comfortable sparring with him. He even asks if he can join Harvey on a weekend once, after they spent most of their Saturday brooding over a case, and it's the farthest thing from Harvey's mind to decline.

They head into the gym together, and like every time they leave, Harvey feels a little closer to Mike than before. There are no barriers when they are boxing. They aren't boss and employee there. They are just friends, just Harvey and Mike without everything that usually comes along with that, and Harvey enjoys those moments more than he cares to admit.

* * *

“Trevor used to go boxing as a teenager,” Mike says, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back as he watches Harvey.

Harvey hums, focused on keeping his breathing even. Mike has been watching him since he started punching, his eyes never leaving him, and it's a little distracting, but Harvey is doing his best to keep the heat building in his stomach at bay.

“He asked me to come along all the time, wouldn't take no for an answer. So I did. Once. Never again.”

Harvey glances at him. “Why?”

“He was a little too happy to make fun of me for being the skinny, out of shape kid I was.”

Harvey huffs, frowning as he aims his fists at the bag harder. “I did always think your choice of friend a little odd.”

Mike chuckles. “I know. It was messed up from the start. He was all I had, though.”

Harvey nearly falters at the surprising admission. “Well, sometimes you cling to something shitty because otherwise you'd have nothing. It's hard to learn that you're better off by yourself than sticking to something that's only bringing you down.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. “I did, though. Even though it took a while.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “I think it's gotten better now, don't you? My choice of friends. I mean, I even go boxing with you, so it can't be all bad.”

Harvey eyes him, his lips curving up. “You're getting there.” He stops punching abruptly, grabbing his bottle.

“Hey,” he says when he's taken a few sips, tilting his chin up. “You feel like sparring?”

Mike straightens with a smile, bumping Harvey's shoulder. “Hell yeah.”

* * *

Harvey is bent over a file, looking up when he feels a prickling sensation at the back of his neck to find Mike leaning in the doorway, eyes fixed on him.

“Shouldn't you be filing the patent?”

“Yeah, but I'm missing page seven of the file. Do you have it?”

Mike's eyes bore into his, and Harvey finds himself thoroughly distracted by their intensity. It's the same way he looks at him when they are at the gym and he's watching Harvey move, absorbing every shift of his muscles.

Well, they're not at the gym now, and Harvey feels himself getting hot all over under the weight of his gaze. And there's no way he can blame that on physical activity here.

He swallows, tearing his eyes from Mike's to check the file. When he looks back up to hand him the page, Mike is still watching him, biting his lip. Harvey's eyes flicker to his mouth.

“Great. Thanks.”

His hand brushes Harvey's, and the warmth of his skin seems to linger, going straight through him.

Harvey doesn't hold his breath. He doesn't, but it's a close call.

“Get back to work,” is all he says. He decidedly doesn't watch Mike's back as he leaves.

Stifling a sigh, he tries to focus again but finds himself too distracted.

The thing is, these touches should feel weird, like crossing a line on some level. But they don't. Harvey knows why, there's no point in pretending that he doesn't.

But acknowledging it is one thing. Acting on it... well, Mike is making it pretty damn hard _not_ to act on it, that's for sure.

* * *

“That was fucking brilliant.”

Harvey smirks, his fingers brushing Mike's as he hands him a drink. “Damn right it was.”

“You annihilated them.”

“We did,” Harvey corrects, raising his glass to clink Mike's. They both take a sip, savoring the heat of the alcohol on their tongues, fueling the sense of victory circulating in their systems.

It's late. Mike and Harvey returned to the firm after court, retreating to Harvey's office to finish the paperwork and have a celebratory drink. In here, it feels like there is no one else but them. Harvey can sense the unity between them he has gotten so accustomed to, craves even. It keeps seeping into their daily life, and he's starting to wonder if it was always there and he just didn't see it.

“Thanks for letting me handle Pollock,” Mike says, his eyes bright as he gazes at him. “I know you wanted to destroy him.”

“You were the one who found our smoking gun. You deserved it.”

Mike smiles. “You let me do it because you knew I wanted to. Sweet.”

Harvey did know. He saw it in the look Mike and him had exchanged in the way they're so good at, no words needed. He chuckles, swirling his scotch. “Well, it's what friends do, isn't it?”

He's not sure friends is the right term for them, something he certainly isn't going to say out loud, but it's definitely more fitting than just colleagues.

He expects Mike to chuckle, looking up when he is met with silence instead. He blinks at the sight of him, entirely different from what he thought he'd find.

Mike isn't looking at him, instead staring into his glass, and for a moment he looks almost pained, but the expression is gone before Harvey can pinpoint it, and he wonders if it was ever there at all.

When Mike looks up, his face is unreadable. “So, about that paperwork...”

* * *

Mike is on edge. Harvey can read the signs perfectly, the set of his jaw, the line of his shoulders, his stiff posture. He can read them, he just doesn't know why they're there.

“Come on,” Harvey tells him after having watched his mood worsen for several days, nodding towards the elevator. “You look like you could use a session.”

Mike frowns but doesn't protest, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he follows him. They head to the gym in silence. Mike goes straight for the usual spot, not waiting for any instructions.

Harvey watches him punching the bag like it has personally wronged him, frowning when his breathing grows ragged but he still doesn't stop.

He catches the punching bag when Mike boxes it so hard that it nearly hits him, raising his eyebrows.

“Woah! Easy, tiger. What's gotten into you?”

“You're the one who's always telling me to channel my emotions,” Mike says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah and you're doing a great job of it right now, but I wanna know where all that is coming from. I know for a fact it's not work, so what has you that intense? Love troubles?” Harvey asks jokingly, but Mike only looks more grim.

“You could say that,” he grinds out, scowling.

A wave of anger surges through Harvey, and he berates himself for being so pathetically predictable. Taking a deep breath, he gets into position and starts throwing punches too. If he hits the bag harder than necessary, Mike certainly doesn't notice.

Keeping his voice neutral he says, “I didn't know you were seeing anyone.”

“I'm not,” Mike says. His fist nearly hits Harvey's chest.

“Ah. Unrequited, then? What's the problem, she isn't into you?” He cocks his head. “Is she gay?”

Mike lets out a dry laugh but doesn't answer. Harvey narrows his eyes. “Well, if it's not that then do us all a favor and tell her how you feel so you can stop being all worked up. Get it over with, easy.”

In theory. In reality it's anything but, Harvey knows, but if all that's keeping Mike from getting what he wants is not talking about it then there's really nothing else to say. Though he can't believe he's helping some asshole who doesn't appreciate Mike. If it were Harvey, he'd jump at the chance of being with him.

“I'm pretty sure they wouldn't appreciate it,” Mike mutters, ignoring the raised eyebrows Harvey regards him with at the pronoun.

Huh, Harvey thinks.

“Alright, that's enough,” he says when Mike nearly doubles over. He glares at him but doesn't protest, probably because he's too out of breath. Harvey lets him cool down until he doesn't seem on the verge of an asthma attack anymore.

Before he can say anything else on the matter, Mike straightens and asks, “Can we spar?”

Harvey glances at him, only hesitating for a beat before he says, “Sure. But I'll warn you, maxed out like this, I'll have you on the ground in a minute.”

Mike's jaw tightens. He doesn't look at Harvey when he says, “Maybe that's what I'm counting on.”

* * *

Mike seems to have gotten it out of his system by the end of their session, but Harvey suspects that he didn't actually resolve the issue, merely resigned to it. He doesn't mope, he'll grant him that, and while he seems to pull himself together at work, sometimes Harvey catches glimpses of a sadness that is too old for Mike's young face.

It leaves him conflicted. Because while he decidedly doesn't want Mike to see anyone, what he wants even less is for him to be unhappy. And he undoubtedly is, no matter how much he tries to hide it. It's in the set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes. Mike is miserable, which makes Harvey miserable too, and it needs to stop.

He can't believe he's worrying about Mike's love life. Especially when it doesn't involve him. This is why he doesn't do emotions.

“Someone's looking happy,” he says one day when Mike flips through a file like it's a funeral brochure.

Mike's hand halts before he turns another page. “I'm working. What's there to be happy about?”

“Don't get smart with me. You love your work. You're never this cranky while doing it.” He pauses, scrutinizing him. “This about your little crush again?”

He tries to keep any anger out of his voice, but if he doesn't succeed, Mike doesn't seem to pay attention to it. He lets out a hollow laugh, devoid of any humor. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

Harvey narrows his eyes. “Alright, what's gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Mike still doesn't look at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

It drives Harvey insane.

“Mike, if you're not gonna tell me what's going on-”

“Then what?” Mike shuts his file, staring at him with an intensity Harvey didn't expect. “For god's sake, Harvey, just drop it. Alright?

“I sure as hell won't, not when it so clearly bothers you.”

Mike runs a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sound. “You need to stop trying to solve all of my problems, Harvey. Some things even you can't help with.”

His tone is as clear as any request to back off, but Harvey doesn't give up that easily. “Well, I don't know that if you don't tell me what's going on, do I? So why don't you give it a shot and let me try-”

Mike groans, shooting up from his seat. “You're everywhere, aren't you? You're always everywhere all the goddamn time, you're here, you're in my head, always distracting me. It's always about you, and you know what? I can't deal with it, Harvey! So you don't get to snoop around, not when I think you know exactly what's going on anyway and doing this to me is just cruel, and if you don't know-”

He cuts off abruptly. Harvey doesn't take his eyes off him. “If I don't know what?”

Mike deflates, shaking his head. “Then I can't help you. And you can't help me either,” he says quietly, and then gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Harvey is left with silence, staring at the place where Mike was just a moment ago. No matter how long he mulls it over, he doesn't understand what just transpired, but now he is more determined to get to the bottom of it than ever. Because if Mike is saying what he thinks he's saying...

Harvey doesn't do hope. He does hard facts and plain truths, always estimating, never wishing. And yet he can't help the flicker of hope in his belly at the defeated sound of Mike's voice, the look in his eyes as he stared at Harvey.

Maybe, just this once, hoping won't be in vain.

* * *

“Thought I'd find you here.”

The bright lights of the gym are a stark contrast to the darkness outside. Harvey chose this place for its opening hours, and he's often been here this late, but hardly ever in a state like Mike. There are a few other people, but no one brimming with excessive energy like him.

Mike doesn't look at him. “What do you want?”

Harvey ignores the question, instead asking, “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Mike gives back dryly.

“Bullshit. Cut the crap, Mike. I know you, I know something's wrong, and I want you to tell me what the hell it is.”

Mike abruptly stops boxing, his eyes boring into Harvey's as he wipes his face. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want me to tell you so badly? I thought you didn't like talking about emotions. Why do you care?”

He spreads his arms, and Harvey is taken aback by the vulnerability in his eyes. His look is almost pleading, asking for something Harvey can only guess, but if it's anything like what he suspects, he is more than happy to give it to him.

He needs to be sure first, though.

“Because I care about you. Is that what you want to hear? Yes, Mike, I care about you. I thought after everything we went through together that was clear.”

It's a big admission for Harvey, and the words feel vital somehow, but they don't have their desired effect. If anything, Mike looks even more unhappy.

Shaking his head, he says quietly, “Sorry, Harvey, but that's just not good enough.”

He gets back into position like the conversation is over, but Harvey is nowhere near done. Gripping the punching bag to intercept Mike's punches, he says, “You wanna know the truth? Fine. I care about you, but I also have a feeling that whatever's going on with you is about me, and at least that gives me the right to know.”

Mike winces, hammering against the bag until he nearly drowns out the words.

“Mike.”

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest and own up to what's going on!”

“Let it go, Harvey.”

“No.”

“For fuck's sake, you can be so goddamn infuriating-”

“No, Mike, you know what's infuriating? Seeing someone you care about beating himself up about something he just won't talk to you about, knowing that it has something to do with you without being able to help, and I'm not letting this go until you finally talk to me!”

The bag swings backwards with the final punch Mike gives it, all his frustration seeming to burst out of him.

“Fine! You wanna know what's going on with me, why I can't tell you or even look at you or let you help me? Because I fucking love you, Harvey! I went and fell in love with you like the total idiot I am. Is that what you want to hear?”

Silence rings between them. Mike's chest heaves as he stares at him, earnest and desperate and looking so young that Harvey wants to hold him close and never let go. His heart pounds in his chest, making the blood rustle in his ears as he asks, “Is it true?”

Mike visibly deflates as the anger leaves him, giving way to resignation. “Yes. It's true.”

“Then it's exactly what I want to hear.”

Mike only has a split second to look up before Harvey grabs his face and brings their lips together.

Mike's mouth yields beneath his before he grips his lapels and pushes into him, returning the kiss with so much force that Harvey staggers backwards. He just holds on, his hair standing on end at the feeling of Mike against him, clinging to the kiss like he's suffocating and Harvey is the air that's keeping him alive.

It's hard and rough, almost bruising. It's pulsing with desire and pure, unadulterated need, finally satisfying an integral urge.

Mike gasps when Harvey bites his lip, immediately soothing the burn with another kiss. He's distantly aware of his surroundings, the fact that there are people around, but if anyone sees them, they're minding their own business.

He only stops when Mike lets out a desperate sound, catching his breath before drawing back.

Mike's chest is heaving. He's staring at him like he can't believe what he's seeing, his mouth red and shining. Harvey's eyes are instantly drawn to it.

“I hope that answers your question of what I want from you,” he murmurs. Mike blinks at him, his throat bobbing.

“I don't know,” he says, his voice hoarse, “maybe you could be a little clearer.”

“I sure can,” Harvey agrees, and then he leans in to kiss Mike again, meeting him halfway.

This time it's more gentle. Mike's lips brush his, soothing the bruising touches from before. Harvey is entirely defenseless in the face of it, unable to do anything but pull Mike closer, sweaty clothes be damned. He licks over the seam of his lips, tentatively tasting, and the touch is so intimate that they both groan before they finally break apart.

Harvey catches Mike's gaze, deep and intense, and he thinks that they may never have understood each other as well as they do in that moment. It's startling, this kind of intimacy. Harvey isn't used to it, but he finds that it's not a bad feeling at all.

Unable to keep the smile off his face, Harvey beams at Mike, conveying all the things running through his head with a single look. When he speaks, his voice is dry, but there's an underlying softness that he knows Mike catches.

“Of all the places I imagined this to happen, the gym never really occurred to me.”

Mike gazes at him, his lips curving into a smile. “You imagined this?”

Harvey raises his eyebrows, and he chuckles. “Well, I didn't exactly think I'd be sweaty and out of breath either.” He smirks. “At least not for these reasons.”

“And we're back to crude jokes,” Harvey remarks. It's good to see Mike smile again, happy in a way he hasn't been for weeks. Harvey leans in to kiss the smirk off his face, curious to see what it tastes like.

He draws back when Mike chuckles, the vibrations of his chest going straight through Harvey.

“People are staring.”

He seems so much more carefree than before, and Harvey's heart lifts at the sight. If he'd known all it took to make Mike happy was to kiss him senseless...

“I don't give a shit about people,” Harvey tells him. “I do give a shit about doing things we shouldn't do in public, however. Especially now that you've planted those images in my mind. So, what do you say?” He nods towards the punching bag. “You done here?”

Mike's grin lights up his entire face. “I'm right behind you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Marvey Secret Santa! This is beta-read but English isn't my first language, so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> If you have any thoughts, questions, or concrit, comments make me extremely happy :)


End file.
